by loud testimonies of joy, they satisfied themselves with bending in a low salaam as the carriage passed; it went slowly along the road of the Piraeus; passed by antique temple and heroic tomb, beneath the craggy rock of the citadel.  The sound of the waves was left behind; that of the multitude continued at intervals, supressed and hoarse; and though, in the city, the houses, churches, and public buildings were decorated with tapestry and banners—­though the soldiery lined the streets, and the inhabitants in thousands were assembled to give him hail, the same solemn silence prevailed, the soldiery presented arms, the banners vailed, many a white hand waved a streamer, and vainly sought to discern the hero in the vehicle, which, closed and encompassed by the city guards, drew him to the palace allotted for his abode.

Raymond was weak and exhausted, yet the interest he perceived to be excited on his account, filled him with proud pleasure.  He was nearly killed with kindness.  It is true, the populace retained themselves; but there arose a perpetual hum and bustle from the throng round the palace, which added to the noise of fireworks, the frequent explosion of arms, the tramp to and fro of horsemen and carriages, to which effervescence he was the focus, retarded his recovery.  So we retired awhile to Eleusis, and here rest and tender care added each day to the strength of our invalid.  The zealous attention of Perdita claimed the first rank in the causes which induced his rapid recovery; but the second was surely the delight he felt in the affection and good will of the Greeks.  We are said to love much those whom we greatly benefit.  Raymond had fought and conquered for the Athenians; he had suffered, on their account, peril, imprisonment, and hardship; their gratitude affected him deeply, and he inly vowed to unite his fate for ever to that of a people so enthusiastically devoted to him.

Social feeling and sympathy constituted a marked feature in my disposition.  In early youth, the living drama acted around me, drew me heart and soul into its vortex.  I was now conscious of a change.  I loved, I hoped, I enjoyed; but there was something besides this.  I was inquisitive as to the internal principles of action of those around me:  anxious to read their thoughts justly, and for ever occupied in divining their inmost mind.  All events, at the same time that they deeply interested me, arranged themselves in pictures before me.  I gave the right place to every personage in the groupe, the just balance to every sentiment.  This undercurrent of thought, often soothed me amidst distress, and even agony.  It gave ideality to that, from which, taken in naked truth, the soul would have revolted:  it bestowed pictorial colours on misery and disease, and not unfrequently relieved me from despair in deplorable changes.  This faculty, or instinct, was now rouzed.  I watched the re-awakened devotion of my sister; Clara’s timid, but concentrated admiration of her father, and Raymond’s appetite for renown, and sensitiveness to the demonstrations of affection of the Athenians.  Attentively perusing this animated volume, I was the less surprised at the tale I read on the new-turned page.